


Paint Me

by SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Paint, Fluff, M/M, Sterek Exchange 2017, they have sex with paint on them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 22:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12567688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock/pseuds/SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock
Summary: When Stiles' laptop breaks, he realizes that it's not the only expense he has. He can't pick up any more shifts at work and he's desperate. Allison comes through with a last minute save for him with her connections to the art world.For this prompt: Stiles is getting a little desperate for cash. He owes his roommates for rent, not to mention his computer crashed on him. So Allison tells him she knows a legit artist that is looking for a guy to model for him.Stiles agrees and is floored by how gorgeous the man is. From his raven hair, styled like a Disney Prince, to the rainbow colored eyes.Derek stops dead in his tracks once stiles walks into the loft. He has the perfect form. Broad shoulders and a lean frame. At first he thinks it's too good to be true, but then Derek sees that it was meant to be.





	Paint Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gonardo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gonardo/gifts).



> For the Sterek Exchange 2017. I hope you like it!

“No, no, no!” Stiles called from his room. 

Scott came running in the room, pan in his hand as if he was ready to face some unwanted person that was in the room assaulting his friend. “What? Where is he? Who do I have to fight?” he asked, looking around and aiming the pan like the thing now had bullets or something. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Though it was sweet that Scott was trying to help, trying to defend him or whatever, he knew that his best friend couldn’t save him from this. 

“This isn’t something you can hit with a pan, Scott,” he said, frustrated. “My computer just died,” he shook his head as he shoved himself from the desk.”

Scott straightened, letting his hands drop to his side as he gave his best friend a despondent look. “Dude… that sucks, I’m sorry.”

Stiles ran his hand through his hair. “Luckily I was able to get my paper turned in before it cut out but… dude, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m  _ actually _ going to have to go to the library until I can save up the money to fix it.”

Scott scratched the back of his neck. He felt bad for his friend, really. And he felt like a took doing what he was about to do. 

He cleared his throat. “And uh… don’t forget that your part of the rent is two days late,” he sighed. “Jackson’s not happy about fronting it again.”

Stiles groaned and hung his head back toward the ceiling. Okay… so on top of his phone bill, having his own internet so that he could be on it whenever– that he had to pay for– and his car insurance… he was so boned this month. He couldn’t pick up any more shifts at work than he already had. When he wasn’t working, he was in school. When he wasn’t in school, he was working. He got one day off a week and that was to catch up on every piece of school work he was putting off during the week. 

Everything was piling up and he was beginning to see that maybe his dad was right. Maybe he wasn’t completely ready to live on his own. For the first few months, it had been easy. But then his jeep broke down. And he’d had to pay all the money he’d saved up just to fix it. That had happened months ago and yet he was still paying for it because now he never had any money to his name. He couldn’t have gotten a coffee from Starbucks if he wanted to. 

“I have absolutely no money,” he shook his head. “I get paid on Friday. You can tell Jackson I’ll have the money then. But I don’t even know how I’m going to fix my laptop. Let alone if I have to get a new one. God dammit,” he cursed, throwing something against his wall. 

It was then that Allison, Scott’s girlfriend, came in. She had a key so it was normal for her to pop up and come and go as she pleased. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Why’s Stiles throwing things?” she wondered, though it was a bit absent minded as she organized their mail. 

Stiles might have said something if it wasn’t for the simple fact that Allison doing just that was one of the ways the three men living together were able to find any of the bills they ever got. 

“His computer died. And he has no money,” Scott explained.

Allison looked up long enough to give him the same look of sorrow Scott had about his laptop. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I wish I could help.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he sighed. “I should just go to the library now…”

Allison bit her lip as thoughts and ideas seemed to flip behind her eyes as she tried to help her friend. “You know, if you’re tight on cash and you need to make some quick… I might have a way,” she nodded. 

Stiles got excited for a moment, standing up before he paused. “Wait a minute… that sounds really shady. You’re not going to suggest I sell myself on Tinder or Grindr or something like that, are you?” he asked, only half kidding. 

Allison threw her head back in laughter. “No, of course not,” she said as she moved out of the room, knowing the boys would follow. “I have some friends in the art world,” she informed. 

“You do?” the boys asked together. 

She nodded. “Yes. Some that used to go to this school and moved on. Some I met through other people. My point is that they’re always looking for models and the good ones have the money to pay and they pay cash.”

“Alright the more you talk the more this is  _ really _ starting to sound like porn, Alli,” Stiles said, calling her a nickname they’d all become accustomed to. 

He had to admit that he was more than a little skeptical. A model? He wasn’t handsome enough. He wasn’t tall enough or muscular enough. How was he going to pass for a model in any stretch of the word?

She shook her head with a chuckle. “Oh stop it,” she rolled her eyes. “If they like you they’ll pay two hundred for you to sit there. And to top it off they may not even use all of you– not even your face.”

“And what will they be using?” Scott had to ask with a lifted eyebrow. 

She shrugged. “Hands, feet, back– there’s all kinds of things. The face isn’t all they use. I can make a few phone calls if you’re in,” she offered. 

Stiles chewed his lip. Model. That was never something he thought he’d add to his resume. Frankly, he always thought of vapid, shallow, and air-headed when he thought of models. Especially the male ones. But perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps male models started out like he was now: broke.

He looked back at his computer with a crestfallen expression. At the very least it would take a couple hundred for anyone to fix the Macbook. It would take another few hundred if he needed to buy a new one. Even used were expensive. Not to mention he still had bills to pay. If it worked out, he could actually have pocket money.

He looked at Allison before he nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this,” he confirmed. 

 

Stiles had been more than a little dejected at first. Allison had taken a few pictures of him and had began emailing all the people she knew in the art world that were looking for models. So many of them responded saying that he was too skinny, not pretty enough, not bulky enough… all of the things Stiles had been afraid of. 

With his lanky frame and wiry limbs, Stiles knew that he wasn’t going to be anyone's first pick. But he thought he would at least get something. Someone would bite, wouldn’t they?

“I’m really sorry, Stiles,” Allison had said as they gathered their things to go to bed that night. “Just remember that not everyone has gotten back to me.”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s okay, Alli. You tried. I didn’t really think anyone would want me as a model, y’know? I’m nothing special. I don’t even have like… pretty eyes or something. Just plain brown.”

“Hey now, Stilinski. I got brown eyes,” she teased. 

“And you’re a pretty girl! I’m just…” he trailed off, gesturing to himself. He sighed. “One hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone.”

“Yeah but you’re really adorable,” she grinned as she pinched his cheek, laughing when he swatted her away. “Just you wait until morning before you give up, okay?”

He pouted. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he said. 

Though Stiles told her he would wait until morning, he still stayed up in bed, texting his co workers and seeing if he could snag a shift or two from anyone. But without luck… he fell asleep with his phone on his chest. 

In the morning, Stiles dragged himself out of bed and groaned when the sun shone in his eye. He moved to the counter and reached for his cereal, his entire being just drained from the fact that he’d spent most of the night dreaming of having no money. It really was awful how his brain could screw with him. 

“Stiles!” Allison called excitedly as she bounced out of Scott’s room, Stiles trying not to pay attention to the fact that she was only wearing one of Scott’s shirts and very short shorts. If he was at all attracted to the girl, it might have been a problem. 

Stiles looked up, still barely awake. “Uh?” he asked around his mouthful. 

“Three people responded. I know them all, they’re all cool people. I contacted them specifically because I knew they were looking for male models and they all want you. Of course one of them didn’t see a picture of you, he just trusted me that I had good taste,” she chuckled. 

Stiles’ eyebrows went high. “Someone  _ actually _ wants me to model for them?” he sputtered, grabbing for the phone that she was holding, scrolling through messages. “Don’t mess with me on this.”

“I’m not messing with you, and don’t grab! It’s unappealing,” she said as she held her phone away from him. “But they’re all willing to pay,” she nodded. “Of course the one who’s yet to see you, that’s who’s paying the most. I don’t know if you wanted to choose or do all three–”

“Hell, I’ll do all three. What are they paying?” 

“The first two are only paying two hundred. One of them is a photographer and he wants to do an art piece about men of all shapes and sizes and he says that you are perfect. He literally just wants you to come in your regular clothes.”

Stiles was having a hard time believing this. He was going to actually  _ model _ for someone. Someone wanted him to be in their art. Something like that had never happened to him. He’d never really been the subject of pictures or anyone’s inspiration. Hell, he wasn’t even on most people’s radar. So this? This was a whole new kind of attention. He wasn’t sure how it made him feel. 

“And the other ones?”

“The other is a female artist. She does abstract work so more than likely you won’t even recognize the sculpture when you’re done. A hand here, an ear there. She doesn’t like to insert her inspiration into the piece  _ completely _ but when she saw your picture, she said she had to sculpt you.”

Stiles blushed and he squirmed in his seat. “Well that’s definitely a new one,” he muttered as he took a bite of his cereal before he frowned in thought. “What about the third one? What’s his deal? Why is he paying so much?”

Allison bit her lip. “That’s the one I thought you might have trouble with, actually. I know this guy personally and I contacted him last night to ask if he was still having trouble finding the right model for this painting he wants to try. He’s had so many of them come down, given them a twenty spot for gas and their time but sent them on their way. I told him that you might be the exact thing he’s looking for.”

“Why on  _ earth _ would you tell him that?” Stiles’ eyes widened and shook his head. “I mean, the gas thing is nice, but what if he doesn’t like me, Allison?” he asked. 

“Then you have four hundred easy dollars in your pocket and you won’t need his money,” she pointed out. 

He sighed, thinking it over before he seemed to pause, taking in one thing that Allison had said. “Alli… what did you mean he was the one you thought I might have trouble with?” he wondered, squinting his eyes at her. 

She gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… well, you see… his art… the painting he’s looking to do… it’s a nude piece,” she said. 

“Oh hell no,” he responded with a shake of his head. “Nice and all and floats somes boats but ain’t no way am I taking off all of my clothes for some guy to ogle me!” he said as he got up, dumping the milk from his cereal down the drain and moving to wash it. 

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not there to ogle you. He’s there to paint you, I promise. Look, he’s looking for someone that gives him the inspiration to paint and also someone that is willing to sit there for a few sessions for him to work it out. Six hours at most and it won’t even be one day. Two hours here and another two there… he’s willing to pay six  _ hundred _ dollars to the right person.”

Stiles was pretty sure he saw dollar signs when she said that and he spun around to face her. “I-I’m sorry… did you just say six hundred? As in two zeros? As in probably enough to fix my laptop and have some left over?”

She chuckled. “As in six hundred, yeah,” she nodded. 

Stiles didn’t have to think more on it. “Tell him I’ll be there at his earliest discretion,” he said. Even if this guy didn’t like him, Allison said something about gas money. If he did… it would be the easiest six hundred dollars he’s ever made. 

 

The first guy Stiles went to see was nearly impossible to make. He only wanted to see Stiles during the day, around 12pm on Monday and at that time, he was usually in his class. Although, Stiles managed to call in sick to said class and had Allison video the lecture so that nothing was missed. She was really turning out to be a lifesaver. 

When he’d gotten there, the guy– Danny– was already taking pictures of other men, all of them so much more...  _ seasoned  _ than he was. He was talking to them, moving them, positioning them as he took photos. Others seemed to move on their own, knowing what the photographer wanted whereas Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to deliver the same kind of dedication and prowess. 

But that didn’t seem to stop Danny from dragging him over and inserting him between one manly, burly, guy and another very short, more plain looking guy. One man on the end that was wearing a sweat stained shirt and eating a burrito made Stiles realize that this gig wasn’t exactly too difficult. It looked like Danny was literally taking people off the street.

He wasn’t required to touch anyone; something he’d been afraid of. Danny moved him a few times, made him look up or down. But when it came down to it, it seemed like the final product that had him looking anywhere else but the camera.

But of course, Stiles didn’t care. Easiest two hundred dollars he ever made. And while he heard someone talking about the photo being the headline of an article in a magazine that wasn’t even American… Stiles wasn’t sure he would look for it. 

The second artist turned out to be a lovely girl named Kira whose schedule was so much more flexible. She let him pick the time. It was rather early before class and she was perfectly okay with that. 

When he got to her apartment, he smiled at how shy she was. At first, she didn’t talk to Stiles as she got her art supplies ready. But when he commented on a TARDIS mug that was on her wall, she seemed to open up and begin talking. 

The only downside to modeling for her was that she needed him to stay perfectly still. She said something about needing to be able to capture perfectly whatever pieces of him she used and she couldn’t do that if he was moving. She said the only part of him he could move was his mouth because she wasn’t going to use that… and then she proceeded to talk about anything he would. 

It was a… stiffer two hundred bucks. The position she had him in was uncomfortable and when he couldn’t move, it only made matters worse. But he did give her his phone number and told her that if she ever needed another model, he’d be happy to do it for her. She was just that nice. 

It was Friday night when the third artist had told him he wanted to see him. Stiles had been surprised at that. He knew from Allison that the artist was only a couple years older than he was. He was sure that on a Friday night, he’d want to be out with friends, at a bar– anywhere but hanging around his place while Stiles posed for him. 

But that was what he wanted. He wanted him to come over to his apartment and model for him– nude, Stiles might add. Allison had informed him that the artist relayed that if he picked Stiles, then he would pay him upfront the first half for his time and efforts and then the rest when the project was done. Stiles had to admit that was one of the best perks of the job. He could deal with the nudity for that kind of money.

He sucked in a breath as he stared at the metal door of the loft. He swallowed hard, nervous. It wasn’t like Stiles had a whole lot of experience being naked in front of someone else. Sure, he’d had sex before but it was also dark and it wasn’t like the person was focused on his body so much as they were just feeling good. He never had to worry about someone staring at his body and then putting it down on paper. 

He steeled himself as he stood up straight. “You can do this, Stiles. Six hundred dollars. You’ve got this,” he muttered to himself. He held his hand up, about to knock on the door, when he heard the door unlatch. His eyes widened as it slowly slid open, revealing the artist that had called on him. 

When the door opened, Stiles had been expecting some resigned, loner, type. He didn’t know why but when Allison was talking about him, she had mentioned that he was a bit of a recluse. He liked to paint and he liked a few other art mediums but it was painting that he loved the best. She said he came from a little bit of money and he had his own from his artwork. He expected glasses and maybe a guy as skinny as him because he didn’t go outside or remember to eat when the moment struck him. 

And while the guy was wearing glasses, Stiles was completely dumbfounded with everything else. The guy was big. And he didn’t mean in a chunky or chubby way. No, meant in the ‘a wall of muscle that towered over him’ way. Splotches of paint traveled up arms that bulged out of the Henley he was wearing, said shirt also covered in paint. In fact, his entire person was covered in paint from the loose fitting jeans up to the rim of his glasses. 

His eyes were one of the things that caught Stiles’ breath in his throat. They were a gorgeous blue, light and very nearly becoming grey in color. And then there was his hair, hair that was long enough for Stiles to want to run his fingers through. 

Stiles was not trying to look him over, but when meeting new people, it was hard to control. Meeting such an Adonis– goddammit he was like a fucking Disney prince– as the guy in front of him made it even harder. And he used that term loosely because he was sure that if he stayed staring at him much longer, he might actually  _ get hard _ . 

What Stiles didn’t know was that this guy was staring right back at him. Derek couldn’t help but immediately notice the beauty of the man standing on the other side of the threshold. He was what some might consider gangly and – if he had to guess– uncoordinated. But Derek could see that there was muscle under his baggy clothes. He could see that he had a figure that most would kill for, especially in a business such as his. 

Now as beautiful as he was, his body wasn’t the only thing that took Derek by surprise. Beautiful, chocolate, irises stared up at him and had him completely blown away. He took in the smattering of moles across his jawline and neck and he couldn’t help but wonder if those went below the clothes he was wearing. 

And suddenly it hit Derek like nothing ever had before. This… this was his model. He’d been searching for months for someone that inspired him with just looking at them and he did! It was too good to be true. Not only was Allison right… but he’d struck gold. Because this wasn’t just his model for the day, no… he knew that if this kid would let him, Derek would make him his permanent model. His muse. 

Finally, he seemed to realize that they were just standing there, door open. Derek made a noise before he finally moved aside. 

“Sorry, sorry. Come in,” he said as he gestured. 

Stiles gave a polite smile before he nodded and stepped into the loft. It was simple in it’s design, kitchen to the left, open spacing all around. Stiles could see that the man was as simple when it came to decoration. With a couch and a TV that could be considered a living room and then all the other space being dedicated to his art, it was clear that the first was just to host infrequent guests. Though he did see one interesting piece of furniture: an intricately detailed indoor hanging chair, something he’d always wanted to sit in.

“Sorry,” he apologized again. “Uh. I’m Derek,” he said. 

Of course his name was Derek. Because that was a really hot name for a really hot guy. But Stiles tried not to groan at how perfect he was and focused on trying to get this gig. He stuck his hand out. “Stiles. Nice to meet you.”

Stiles. Derek had never heard anything else like it but as he shook his hand, he somehow got the feeling that it just fit him. Even if he didn’t really know the kid. 

Stiles took his hand away a moment later because… if Derek was going to keep holding his hand, he was afraid of what he might do. There was already supposed to be nudity. If he couldn’t control himself, he’d be popping a boner for this guy to paint. That was, if he had the job. 

Stiles smiled a little at Derek and then held his hand out. “What do you think?” he asked as he gestured to himself. 

Derek swallowed. “Uh… excuse me?” he asked back.

“Allison said that you’ve turned down a few models. I’m afraid I’m not much of a model. But I wanted to know if I was okay or if I would be sent packing like the other ones. Which I would totally understand,” he rambled. “Like I just said, I’m not much of a model. Not to mention I’m not the most  _ conventionally _ attractive guy–”

“You’re wrong. You’re very attractive,” Derek intervened. 

That made Stiles blush a bit but it wasn’t until Derek reached out tentatively and touched his chin, giving Stiles time to swat him away, and turning his head to the side. When he only blushed more, Derek felt his heart race. 

“You’ve natural coloring in your cheeks. That will be a wonderful thing to paint,” he voiced, the entire thing without thinking. The second he realized he was touching Stiles without permission, he let go.

Stiles’ eyebrows raised. “So I’ve got the job?” he asked. 

Derek took money out of his back pocket. “I will give you the first three hundred up front. If you decide you’re comfortable and work with me for a few days, whenever your schedule allows, I will pay you the last three hundred. Does that sound okay?” he asked. 

“Dude, that sounds perfect. You have no idea how much this is helping me right now,” he said as he waited for Derek to hold out the money before he took it. It felt weird to just be given money but he was offering a service he supposed. 

Derek had a hard time not smiling at the way Stiles got excited. He pointed. “The bathroom is over there. I left a robe in there for you to cover up once you’ve changed,” he smiled. 

Stiles’ heart beat faster at that.. Not only was Derek smiling but he was asking him to take off his clothes. No, he wasn’t being as crass as Stiles was in his head. But who could even argue when a guy like that was asking him to take his clothes off? He would have done a dance if he asked him to. 

He nodded and moved into the bathroom with his things, taking a deep breath as he closed the door. 

Derek knew nothing of Stiles’ inner battle as he undressed in the bathroom. All he did was set up his painting supplies, trying not to think about how beautiful his model was both objectively and subjectively. He needed to remain impartial, objective. He could not let his attraction get in the way of his art. It was unprofessional. 

When Stiles came out of the bathroom, Derek registered the sound but he didn’t turn around. He simply went about what he was doing as not to make Stiles feel uncomfortable, knowing that most models felt unease when posing. Especially when posing nude and doing it for the first time. 

Stiles was wrapped in a satin robe that had been left for him in the bathroom, a note saying as much. He held the material close to his person as he looked around the flat. He could see so much artwork. Some completely finished. Some that only  _ looked _ half finished but it didn’t seem Derek was going to continue them any time soon. Stiles didn’t know if that was because they were truly unfinished and he’d lost his inspiration or it was an artistic choice and he wanted them that way. 

When he looked up, blue eyes met brown… Stiles tensed as he gripped the robe tighter as if Derek could see right through it. But he was calmed when the man opposite him gave a small yet easy smile. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’m not here–  _ you’re _ not here for me to stare and ogle at you like some pervert might,” he said. “You’re just here to be my model.”

Stiles nodded. “I know,” he muttered, looking down to his feet. He trusted Allison that Derek only wanted him for exactly what he was saying he did. He knew that his friend would never bring him to something shady. But what was he supposed to tell him? That he was worried just looking at Derek would give him an impromptu boner, he was sure, and it would only make everything worse. No. He couldn’t say that. 

Derek nodded in return as he went over to his easel, taking a seat in front of it. “Then feel free to undress whenever you’re ready.”

Stiles looked around the loft, looking for a clear indication of where Derek wanted him. He knew that in the last two shoots that he did, he’d had artists that wanted him in a specific place and a specific position… but Derek hadn’t given him any such direction. 

“Uh… where exactly do you want me?” he asked. 

Derek looked up from where he was mixing paints and already trying to get something perfect for Stiles’ skin tone. He pushed his glasses up and shook his head. “Anywhere is fine,” he gestured to the whole living room. “I leave the easel closest to the window so that people may lay, sit, or stand wherever they want. Wherever they feel comfortable,” he said. “I don’t prefer it when my models are stiff and trying to stay in one place. Sometimes I confine them to an area but I like it when they move, it allows me to catch small things I wouldn’t when they are sitting still.”

Stiles’ eyebrows flicked up toward his brow as he looked over at the bed. “Huh. And here I thought that was just for…  _ convenience _ ,” he said. 

Derek followed his line of sight before he chuckled. “I suppose you could say that,” he shrugged. “It is for convenience. Sometimes my work consumes me until very late and I’ll use it to sleep here instead of dragging myself upstairs. It is also convenient for the model to lay there from time to time. They’ve had a hard day and instead of standing in a position that I may be asking that day, I allow for more attention to detail by letting them lay there and me examining their bodies.”

Stiles lifted an eyebrow as he walked over to the hanging chair he’d been peering at when he first came in. He tried not to let Derek’s kind nature and enticing laugh draw him in. He could tell that just by his words, by the way he was built, and by the leather jacket hanging on the coat rack… that Derek wasn’t just a sweet guy who liked to paint. He wondered if Derek was a bad boy that liked to paint. And sure he was being nice to Stiles but he had a feeling that Derek was nice to every model. Because they were doing him a service. But he wondered if he was truly nice to everybody. And that recipe? That combo? Made for exactly his type…

“Examining their bodies? Is that what they call it these days?” he asked playfully. 

Derek shook his head, though his mouth was quirked into an amused smile. “I can assure you the bed is clean of anything like that. I use it for work and I’ve never had cause or reason to sleep with one of my models,” he said.  _ Not yet _ , he thought, the words on the tip of his tongue but he kept them at bay. 

Stiles was a bit surprised at that. An Adonis such as himself and beautiful people coming in naked to model for him? He was sure that was a recipe for some fun times. 

The way Derek talked made Stiles smile a little. He could tell that he was raised by a good family with mannerisms and etiquette. He could tell that his family talked a certain way, said certain things. His dad was a detective, he could figure this stuff out. What he was sure of, though, that Derek talking to him like this was a pleasantry. To make him feel at home. It was sweet, really. 

“Why not? Not attracted to any of your models?” he asked as he touched the top of the chair, debating if it was time to take off the robe or not.

Derek couldn’t help but both hate and enjoy the onslaught of questions. Although they weren’t really questions that were Stiles’ place to ask, it seemed like he couldn’t particularly help it. It seemed to just come out of his mouth without much thought. And he liked the way the conversation relaxed his model, giving him comfort in something that would make him nervous. 

“On the contrary,” he stated, looking down to mix more paints. “There are a great number of models I have had that I have been attracted to. But I try not to mix my work with my personal life. It becomes very strenuous and then you have people that get jealous… wondering why they can’t be my only nude model. They worry I’m… stepping out on them or perhaps they’re not beautiful to me anymore. I think it’s all a load of…”

Derek’s words trailed off as he looked up at Stiles, thinking he would see gorgeous brown eyes staring back at him as he listened. Instead he was met with the expanse of flesh that was Stiles’ naked back, telling him that Stiles had finally taken off his robe. The light, cream colored, skin was covered in freckles and moles, Derek already wondering if he had a color to match those. 

Then of course, Derek was trying not to objectify his model as Stiles draped the robe over the chair, his backside just perfect enough that he couldn’t know if he could do him justice by painting any of him. He was just so beautiful. 

“... I get jealous. I mean… I don’t really  _ get _ jealous but I get why it would make them jealous. If you were my boyfriend, I would so be jealous of you looking at another man's junk all day. But at the same time I get it. It’s your job,” he said as he eased in the chair, only noticing Derek’s staring when he was situated and he looked up. He furrowed his eyebrows at the way he was being stared at. “Is something wrong? Did… did you change your mind? Do you not want me as your model?” he bit his lip, his panic setting in. What if Derek had thought he was perfect but after seeing his body he thought otherwise? This was humiliating.

Derek moved immediately. “No, no, no. Nothing like that, Stiles. I promise. I was…” he thought briefly that he should go for something nice like telling him that he was admiring his body. But he soon realized that could be misconstrued as creepy and the last thing he wanted to do was upset his model. “Trying to think of which colors to use to get your skin tone. I want it to be as close as possible.”

Stiles relaxed at that news. All his fears of being inadequate melting away a little as he settled back in the chair. He had to admit that he was feeling a little uneasy at being naked in front of him but Derek seemed professional. He seemed to know what he was doing and he didn’t seem like he was doing this just to get a kick out of seeing someone nude. 

Derek looked down. “Like I said: just get comfortable. You needn’t stay still. There is water and snacks on the coffee table for you so if you’re hungry or thirsty, don’t hesitate to move. I promise I won’t mind.”

Stiles nodded, thinking for a moment as he looked around the loft. “Must I stay quiet? The first gig I worked the guy wanted me super quiet. Said that I was making the other guys talkative but I don’t really know how,” he started, his legs swinging from the chair in a childlike manner. “And then the second gig I worked, the girl would  _ only _ let me move my mouth. She said that she wasn’t going to use my mouth but she needed other parts of my body as still as possible. I was so stiff afterwards,” he shook his head. 

Derek chuckled inwardly. Even if he had told his model that no, he needed absolute silence, it was clear that silence just wasn’t something Stiles was friends with. He was so very talkative, barely even noticing when Derek put the brush to the canvas. It was almost adorable the way he rambled on and on about the fact that this was only his third time modeling and how he wasn’t sure he could be a model in the first place. 

And while it seemed like all Derek was doing was painting, he was listening intently. He offered small comments, asking a couple questions. But for the most part he let Stiles talk about everything and anything he wanted to tell him, even finding out that his dad was a cop back in his home town. He learned that Stiles had ADHD and that the first time he found out he was bisexual was when he was watching porn and he found himself more attracted to the guy than the girl. 

That had been a funny reveal because it had become clear by the redness to his cheeks that Stiles had not meant to say something like that. Then came the apologizing but Derek simply laughed and told him he figured out he didn’t have a preference the first time he ever painted a man, that seeming to make him feel better. 

It was two hours later when Derek stood from his work space, grinning at how Stiles was snacking on the chips that he’d left out for him, getting crumbs all over his couch. Usually he would find something like that aggravating. He would have to clean that up later and he hated the thought. But the way Stiles ate like it was his last meal he somehow found… adorable. 

“Are they good?” he chuckled. 

Stiles gave him a look, his cheeks a bit puffed up from all the food he’s stuffed into them. He kicked himself internally, knowing what he must have looked like in that moment. And if he had any hopes of this guy finding him attractive… this certainly wasn’t it. 

He swallowed quickly, trying not to make a noise at the painful way they went down his throat. “Uh… sorry,” he muttered, wiping his face. 

Derek shook his head. “Don’t be apologetic. We’ve been here a while and I’m sure you haven’t eaten for some time,” he said, thinking about offering dinner but he wondered if that was just a little  _ too _ forward.  

Stiles looked up at the clock and grabbed for his robe, seeing what time it was. “Oh, yeah. Uh. I have to,” he pointed at the bathroom, suddenly embarrassed like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours of his life talking to Derek while naked.

Derek nodded, stepping out of his way so that he could do what he needed; watching as he went off to the bathroom.

When Stiles came back out, he was rushing. “I hate to speed off like this, really. But my best friend is texting me about some sort of crisis at our apartment. Um… you already have my number, yes?” he asked. 

Derek was a little disappointed. The beautiful stranger that had modeled for him… he was already a bit attached. He didn’t want him to go. But he knew that Stiles had to do what he had to do. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. 

“Okay. Text me when you need me again,” he offered, waving at him as they parted and Stiles left. 

 

The next few days, Stiles didn’t hear from Derek. Of course… that didn’t stop the younger from thinking about the man. He didn’t think anyone could blame him. Tall, broad shouldered, a dark look to his eyes behind his glasses; not to mention that brooding stare he had when he was looking at his work. All of it… dammit if he wasn’t exactly Stiles’ type. 

The first thing he’d done when he saw Allison again was to comically flip out on her. How could she leave out that he was gorgeous and exactly what he looked for in a guy? How could she not tell him that he was about to pose naked for the hottest person he was sure he’d ever seen? Though the way Allison grinned behind the coffee she was drinking, he had the feeling she knew just what she’d been sending him into even though she claimed otherwise. 

It took a week. A week had gone by before Derek had texted him the day before he needed him. Another Friday that the guy seemed to have free. Stiles wondered if he had no friends or if he just cared more about his art than he did anything else. 

But Stiles has already picked up a shift for that day. It was an earlier shift but he knew he would be wiped out. With papers due all week, he’d pulled two all nighters and he was still struggling with that balance between work and school. He’d bought of telling him no, that just didn’t work for him. But he’d said he’d be there straight after work. He didn’t know if it was out of obligation because Derek was paying him or if it was because he just wanted to see the artist again. 

Sure enough, though, when the time came around to bring himself to Derek’s loft, the college student was dragging his feet. He could barely keep his eyes open so when Derek opened the door for him, he gave a slight wave, not paying any attention to the way Derek looked at him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped aside to let him in. 

Stiles gave a noise. “Mm… dead,” he complained before he remembered he had to strip. But it didn’t seem to register that he should have used the bathroom when he simply stripped of his shirt. 

Derek’s eyebrows raised. He was unsure how he was to control his body if Stiles unknowingly put on a show for him. He was already attracted to the younger man, how was he supposed to hide it if it literally tented his pants?

Stiles caught the look on Derek’s face and his eyes widened at what he’d just done. “Uh, sorry!  I uh… I’m so tired,” he laughed it off, suddenly more awake than he had been as he held his shirt in front of him. “I’m just gonna…” he pointed to the bathroom with a nod. “Sorry,” he muttered again. 

Before Derek could tell him that it was alright, Stiles was already racing off to the bathroom. He was left standing there to collect himself, feeling a bit guilty. Perhaps he should have given Stiles more notice than a day beforehand. 

When he came back out, donned in the same robe as last time, Derek gestured. “I was thinking I could have you on the bed tonight,” he said without much thought. 

Stiles spluttered at the way that sounded. Had Derek really just said that? Had he really just been that forward with him? Not that he was exactly complaining. “Um… excuse me?” He questioned. 

“The bed. I want you to lay down. You don’t have to be still but it will be a new position I’ve not seen you in so it will help me with the angles while I’m painting,” Derek explained. 

Stiles nodded, feeling a bit stupid. “Right. That’s… exactly what I thought you meant,” he murmured as he moved, slipping the robe off just before he got into the bed, laying down. 

As he sank into the mattress, he didn’t realize he was being watched. He didn’t realize that Derek was drinking in his beauty and positioning his easel in a way that allowed him to see him perfectly. No. He was only focused on the way it felt to be laying down, to be relaxing for the first time pretty much all week. 

Derek watched him as he began to mix colors. “Just relax, Stiles,” he said like the other hadn’t done that already. “Just relax and we’ll be done before you know it.”

Stiles nodded, looking up at the ceiling. After a while he heaved a sigh. “It’s been a long week, man. To be honest this is the first time I’ve gotten to relax all week. Even sleeping was a chore because I knew I had so much to do but still had to take care of myself, you know?” He asked. 

Derek hummed. “I understand that completely,” he offered, eyeing Stiles. “I suppose you need someone to take care of you when you forget how,” he joked. 

Stiles laughed. “Right? I need someone to make me real food, cuddle me when I need it—”

“And screw you when you need to relax?” He asked with a smirk. 

Stiles blushed but he laughed once more. “Definitely.”

There was a long, drawn out, pause before Stiles felt something moving up his leg, causing him to jump. He lifted himself up on his elbows quickly, meeting blue eyes. He was a little confused, to say the least but he was pretty sure he understood that touch. 

He swallowed audibly. “Um… what are you doing?” He asked, no malice behind it. 

“You said you needed someone to help you relax,” he said deeply, his voice making Stiles want to melt right then and there. He kneeled between Stiles’ legs, crawling up the bed. “I could be that someone. I definitely want to be that someone.”

Stiles’ eyes got wider as Derek kept closer, sort of looming over his body. “R-really?” He asked. 

“Of course. You’re gorgeous. Your body, your smile, the way you move. You’re not just a perfect model. You’re… shit, Stiles you’re like perfect all around,” he whispered as his hand trailed up his side, the touch making Stiles’ skin feel like was leaving flames in its wake. “Unless of course… you’re not into it.”

“I’m so into it,” he confirmed. 

Stiles only had time to catch a flash of a toothy grin before Derek’s mouth was on his: hot and wet but oh so welcome. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Derek, to bring him closer so their bodies were flush even if Derek was still dressed. He would take it. 

He couldn’t believe that someone like Derek wanted anything to do with someone like him. Derek was a beautiful specimen. He was unlike anyone he’d ever seen before whereas Stiles thought of himself as lanky and unable to catch anyone’s eye really. But apparently he’d caught Derek’s. 

Derek’s lips were… far more skilled and pillowy than he’d spent the last week imagining they were. He could feel Derek drawing his breath from him with simple kissed and he had to break away to breathe. But Derek didn’t need to, it seemed, as his lips found something else to attack: his neck. 

Stiles gasped, arching a little. “Ngh… Derek,” he moaned as he gripped at his shirt. 

“Stiles,” responded, the way Derek said his name going straight to his groin. 

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe Derek wanted him like this. 

“Stiles,” Derek said more insistently, like he needed something. 

“I’m here, Derek. What is it?” He asked. 

“Stiles!”

Stiles jumped, his eyes blurry now. When they came into focus, he saw Derek leaning over him, giving him a worried look. “What’s… what’s going on?” he asked, unclear as to what  _ precisely _ was happening. How did Derek get above him? What happened to their super hot makeout session?

“You were making noises in your sleep… sounded like you were… I don’t know, scared,” he offered. 

Stiles looked around the loft, seeing that the sun had set completely on the other side of the large window that acted as a wall in Derek’s loft. He tried to wrap his head around what Derek’s words meant. “I was… sleeping?” he asked. A dream… that’s all Derek’s advances had been? A mere figment of his imagination. 

Derek nodded. “Yes. Just about as soon as you laid down. I confess that’s why I had you lay down in the first place. I could tell you were tired,” he said with a small smile. 

Stiles returned it. “That was… thoughtful,” he said as he reached for the robe that was sitting on the floor. He didn’t hesitate to slip it on, excusing himself, before he disappeared into the bathroom. 

As he closed the door, he tried not to feel like a self depreciating idiot. But of course it was a dream. Why would Derek want him? He could have anyone he wanted, he was sure. He didn’t want the likes of him. But Stiles pushes those thoughts away as he got dressed, trying not to let them invade. 

Derek let loose a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he stared after the younger man. His fists loosened and he tried not to pant at the way Stiles had him reacting. 

When Stiles had fallen asleep, he hadn’t expected him to be a fitful sleeper. He’d watched him toss and turn for about the first forty-five minutes he was asleep. It seemed to be another thing Derek just found endearing about his model. Another thing he couldn’t really explain either. He’d even smiled a little when Stiles began mumbling to himself. 

“ _ So he’s a sleep-talker? _ ” he’d thought to himself. 

What Derek hadn’t expected was for Stiles to start making some serious happy noises. At first he’d written them off as just that; noises. That was until they got deeper, longer, and sounding more akin to moans that Derek had started to feel… uncomfortable. Not with Stiles’ sounds, of course. In fact… Derek would have loved to hear more. What had made him uncomfortable was the way Stiles’ sounds went directly south. The last thing he wanted was for Stiles to wake up and see that he’d become erect while painting his naked form. He was a professional not a perv. 

He’d felt like a tool having to wake Stiles up. He’d been content to let the college student sleep a little more and then wake him to let him go home. But then he’d heard a sound that came out sounding like his name. No matter if it was or what he’d really said was something completely different… he couldn’t listen to it again and control his own hormones. He simply couldn’t. 

When Stiles stepped back out of the bathroom, he smiled at Derek. “Thank you,” he said to him. 

Derek looked up like he’d been shaken awake this time, seeming confused. “You’re thanking me?” he asked as he stepped closer. “What for?”

“For letting me sleep. With school and work and then getting here– not that I’m complaining–” he paused, sucking in a breath. “It’s just been a very long week for me.”

Derek nodded in understanding. “Oh. Well, I probably should have given you more notice than a day in advanced. I’m sorry about that,” he offered. 

Stiles chuckled and shook his head. “It’s no big deal,” he waved a hand. “I’m just glad you didn’t have me posed in a certain position and I fall asleep on you,” he smiled. “Besides, coming here twice now… it’s been helpful. The first time I got someone to talk to and the second time I got a nap. I can’t wait to see what the third time brings me.”

Derek smiled back, finding it to be contagious. “Well I will let you know when I need you again. I promise it will be with more warning.”

“Thanks man,” he said, stepping up onto the landing before he waved bye to Derek and slipped out of the loft. 

 

The third time Stiles went to Derek’s, it wasn’t because he was called. In fact, Derek hadn’t texted him or called him in about a week and a half. It surprised Stiles, as he expected regular visits to Derek but he wasn’t complaining. He imagined the guy was busy or doing something else. And Stiles wasn’t jealous… he wasn’t. 

The last week or so had actually gone great for Stiles. He had gotten the chance to catch up on work, school, and he was finally in a place where he could relax. So that brought him to movie night. 

Now movie night hadn’t been his idea. In fact, it had been Scott’s idea. He’d told his best friend that with the money Derek had given him and his other jobs, he was actually in a place where he could do something for fun instead of having all of his money go towards rent or fixing something. So the movies it was. 

That was… until Scott texted him and informed him that he got caught up with Allison and he wasn’t going to make it. That wouldn’t have been a problem, not usually. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had already bought his ticket to the movie, driven himself there, and was waiting in the lobby of the place with a bucket of popcorn. 

Stiles had been mad to say the least. If it wasn’t for his need consume every ounce of food he bought– you don’t waste food you paid for: college tip number one– he would have thrown his bucket down in anger. 

He had been on his way to somewhere he didn’t know yet. He hasn’t decided on where to go but he knew home wasn’t it. The last thing he wanted was to see Scott or Allison right now. So he simply drove… when he came up on the intersection that took him straight to Derek’s house. To go left would be to go down to a strip where there was a mall. He couldn’t do any shopping, not really. But he could look and blow off steam. To go right would take him to a place he didn’t even know if he was welcome, not without being formally invited first. He thought about it for a split second before he shook his head. 

As he took the turn, he grumbled to himself the entire time. “Fucking… Scott and his… pussy-whipped brain. Allison and her giggly face and their mushing all the time. Thirteen dollars.  _ Thirteen dollars, Scott _ !” he yelled to himself as he pulled into a driveway. “Thirteen dollars on a ticket and that doesn’t even include the popcorn!”

He knew he probably sounded psycho as he yelled to no one, in his car all by himself. But he didn’t care, couldn’t care. 

He muttered to himself all the way up the steps and when Derek answered the door after his loud and insistent knock, Stiles strode in without much of an invitation. 

“I really,  _ really _ , hate my best friend, did I ever tell you that? I mean the dude says ‘you have money! Let’s have a movie night!’ and me, thinking my best friend is going to come through– well what an idiot I am! Because he never comes through, oh no! He leaves you alone in a movie theater with an already paid for ticket and a bucket of popcorn while he  _ bangs _ his girlfriend. Now I’m all for getting laid but you get laid every night, dude! Can’t you just hang out with me for once?!” he ranted. 

Derek… well he was more than a little confused. Stiles was erratic and pacing, his tone yelling and then quiet and his arms flailing as he spoke. More importantly, he was confused because… well, Derek hadn’t invited him over. In fact he’d even been about to ask what Stiles was even doing there but when he mentioned the movie theater and his friend ditching him, it wasn’t a far leap to assume that Stiles had driven to the loft in a fit of anger and the need to talk to someone. 

He paused only a moment before he closed the door. When he turned around, Stiles was talking again and this time he was doing it while he was taking off his clothes. 

“You know, normally I don’t really care,” he voiced as he stripped of his sweatshirt. “Normally I brush it off and I’m just like ‘that’s Scott’. Because he’ll leave you in the desert to get his dick wet sometimes. It’s really ridiculous. You should have seen them in high school,” he grumbled, his shirt coming off next, his hands reaching for his belt. 

“Uh… Stiles–”

“And the worst part? The worst part is that he knows I don’t have a lot of money right now and he lets me get to the theater, pay for my ticket  _ and _ popcorn… and he just cancels on me fifteen minutes before the movie even starts!” he yelled, draping the belt over the couch with his shirt and sweatshirt. 

“Stiles,” Derek tried again. 

“And now? Now I can’t even go home. Because they’ll be  _ loudly _ doing it in the apartment and the last thing I want is listen to them. I’ve been friends with them for a long time. It’s not something you  _ ever _ want to hear, believe me–”

“Stiles!” Derek said a little louder. 

Stiles looked up, but as he looked at Derek, his eyes flicked over to the table that was just inside the kitchen. Stiles’ heart dropped when he saw that there were two place settings on the table, two glasses of wine and everything. He looked around suddenly, afraid that there was someone else here. “Shit… am I like… interrupting a date or something?” he asked.

Derek frowned in confusion. “What?” he asked, following his line of sight. “No, no. I was… I was supposed to have my sister over for dinner. She, much like your friend, called and cancelled at the last minute,” he sighed, seeming to be upset by that. He looked back to him. “You’re not interrupting anything– but why are you undressing?” he furrowed his eyebrows as he held his hand out in a gesture.

Stiles looked down at his person, only just now realizing fully what he was doing. “Oh…” he muttered. “I just… I guess I’m used to coming here and getting nude,” he offered. “I… this is the first time I’ve come here without being on the clock, I guess. I kinda just… assumed the position,” he chuckled nervously.

Derek relaxed. “It’s alright,” he nodded. He looked at the dinner he’d made, the wine… and then he looked over at his easel. Usually when Derek was angry or upset he painted. Usually it was things he scrapped because he didn’t have a model on hand. But this was, clearly, different. 

He’d only just gotten off the phone with Cora. She was supposed to come over and tell him all about how she was adjusting at school and how she was doing in her classes. She was supposed to tell him how their parents were and how things were at home before she left. He thought she’d been excited. But when she called him, telling him she was sick, Derek was sure he’d heard a man’s voice in the background and Derek knew when he was being put on a back burner. 

“If… if you want to…” he started, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Uh… I’ve got wine and some beers in the fridge. I’ve got spaghetti still hot in the pot. If you wanted to model… I could use an outlet…”

Stiles relaxed at Derek’s words. “Dude, if it gets me out of having to go home, please paint me for the rest of the night,” he said as he moved and downed one whole glass of wine before he moved on to the second one. He snagged the bottle and held it up. “I’ll pay you back.”

Derek chuckled. “Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head. 

Stiles poured himself another glass as he took off the rest of his clothes.

“You’re more comfortable now,” Derek pointed out. “You changed in the bathroom the first two times.”

“I can’t bring myself to care tonight, man,” he murmured, sipping his drink. “You’ve seen the goods twice now. Kinda pointless.”

“I understand.”

As Derek painted, Stiles sat there and ranted, even getting something to eat while Derek sipped on his beer. There were moments when Derek ranted right back at the college student. He would tell him about how he never really saw his siblings anymore and Cora was supposed to bring him pictures and stories but her cancelling on him for some guy had hurt. He understood but it still stung. 

Stiles ranted in turn about how Scott always flaked when it came to Allison. He forgot plans, cancelled them, and would drop everything for the sake of Allison. And he knew that his friend thought of the girl as his one and only and who he was going to end up with but it just go old sometimes. 

Derek didn’t know how long he painted for. More importantly, he didn’t know how many glasses of wine Stiles had. He hadn’t been paying enough attention. He’d only really noticed the other moving when he’d looked up at one point and his eyes had to readjust to find his model; who was wandering about the loft. 

Stiles watched Derek out of the corners of his eyes as he walked around the loft, not able to stay still. His body was feeling warm and comfortable thanks to the alcohol and he found himself needing to get up and walk around. Not to mention all he wanted to do was see what Derek was painting. 

The entire time he’d been doing this, the three times he’d been there, he’d yet to actually see what Derek was painting. He hadn’t been able to look or he’d been racing out of the loft. But now… now he wanted to see. 

He wandered closer to Derek, humming as he leaned over him, draping his arm over his shoulders in a lazy way. He looked on as he sipped his wine, smiling. “You think I look like that?” he asked. 

Derek’s breath hitched when Stiles came to lean on him. If it wasn’t enough to see the man wandering around his loft naked and exposed to him, now Stiles was pressing closer and he had his body pressed against his. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if Stiles’ body wasn’t warm and naked and smelling of a light men's cologne that was enough to make Derek inhale on instinct. 

But he steeled himself, trying not to react to Stiles talking into his ear as he leaned his body against his back and his arm on his shoulder. He looked over briefly. “I know that’s what you look like,” he said softly. 

“Mm, nuh-uh,” he argued. “Whoever that is… they’ve got curves and cute spots on their back…” he said, his words just a little slurred. 

Derek grinned to himself. “You mean the moles that… look like constellations on your back?” he asked. “Not to mention those curves are all yours.”

Stiles blinked. “You… you think my constellations look like moles?” he asked before he snickered. “I meant that the other way around.”

“How much of that wine have you had?” he asked as he looked around for the bottle, trying to keep from answering that question. 

Stiles grinned and leaned down so that his chin was on his shoulder. “Only a little.”

Derek shook his head with a chuckle as he kept painting. He tried not to pay attention to the way Stiles breath was hitting his neck and tickling him. There was a pleasurable sensation in it that he’d never felt before. No one had ever been so close while he painted and while he always thought he’d hate someone watching and hovering while he did it… Stiles against him was just… nice. 

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, though it was more along the lines of asking why. Why was he pressed against him?

“Keeping you company,” he hummed. 

He watched Derek’s hands move with the brushes, creating beauty out of nothing. Briefly he wondered how Derek was still painting when he couldn’t see him anymore. It made him curious as to whether or not Derek knew his body already. 

Derek let Stiles lean into him. Truth be told it was actually kind of comforting. He’s not felt a body against his own in some time. And while they’re relationship was supposed to be strictly platonic… he was having trouble keeping it that way. The only thing that kept him in line was not knowing how Stiles viewed him, felt about him. 

The longer Stiles stood there, the more the wine seemed to hit him. He wasn’t drunk, persay, but he was feeling warm and nice. Unfortunately, the alcohol coupled with his ADHD had his mind wandering. He looked all around the loft akin to a car looking to get into trouble before his attention seemed to get attracted to the paint that sat next to Derek. 

He stared at the different colors that were made, clearly mixed, that Derek kept. How long did it take him to mix those? How many different colors did it take for him to get the exact brown of his moles? How close was Derek’s attention on him?

Without much more thinking, he reached forward and pressed his fingers into one of the colors. He smiled to himself as he brought them back out, seeing it seem to match the exact color of the mole that was on his arm. 

“How long did it take you to find this color?” He wondered aloud. 

Derek looked over and chuckled, wanting to ask what he was doing but he knew the younger was slightly intoxicated. He shook his head as he answered, “Not long. Mixing colors never comes easy but I’ve been doing it for so long that I’m much better at it.”

Stiles hummed in response, looking down at his neck for a moment as he thought to himself. “It would be cute if you had one right… here,” he said, poking his skin, forgetting that he had the paint on his fingers still. “Oops.”

Derek stiffened a little, straightening as he felt the touch but also something cool in its wake. “Stiles… did you just… paint me?” He asked. 

Stiles seemed frozen a bit. He bit his lip. “How much trouble do I get in if I say yes and would it help if I lied?” He asked. 

Derek peered over his shoulder, immediately taking in the fact that Stiles’ cheeks were red. Perhaps he wasn’t drunk but he was tipsy. He got the feeling that while he hadn’t done it on purpose… Stiles was looking to have Derek’s attention. 

He turned on his stool, looking at him. Derek had never had such an easy relationship with one of his models. It had usually just been work. But after the night he’d had, he figured Stiles needed a friend. 

And so he did something he never really thought he’d do: he wasted paint. He stuck his fingers into his own swatch of paint and smeared it on Stiles’ collarbone. 

As Stiles gasped at the cold feeling, Derek smirked. “There. Now we’re even.”

“Derek! At least mine was an accident,” he huffed but there was no anger in his voice or behind his eyes. There was, however, a look of mischief in his eyes. But before Derek could really do or say anything about it, Stiles was dipping his fingers in a green color before wiping it on Derek starting at his neck and running all the way down to the bottom of his shirt. 

Now if it was anyone else, Derek thought, he would have been pissed. He regularly got paint on his clothes but these were nicer clothes. He brought them out specifically to wear for his dinner with his sister and he’d been very careful so far not to get paint on them. 

Derek looked down at the paint before he slowly took off his glasses and set them aside. “You’re going to pay for that one,” he said slowly then suddenly bolted for the other. 

Stiles laughed, giving chase around the easel as he saw Derek pick up a red container of paint and a paint brush. He snagged a purple on his way by, ducking when Derek flung the red at him, covering him. “Oh! So cold!” he shivered before he was throwing his own color at him, both of them laughing.

Stiles ran around the loft, escaping the colors of paint that were being flung at him as best as he could while he flicked his own at Derek. He ran around the couch, thanking his small body for being able to fit underneath Derek’s coffee table as he ran for cover. He ran around the beams that were in the loft, trying to hide behind them but Derek always found him. 

At one point, Derek’s shirt became so soaked and bogging him down that he’d simply taken it off. Stiles wasn’t completely sure when that happened. He just remembered looking up to see the man shirtless before he covered that bare chest with a yellow. 

The entire time, both seemed to forget that this wasn’t exactly normal behaviors. Stiles was stark naked and just running around the loft that way. And Derek? Well Derek was becoming more undressed as they went. But neither seemed to care. 

Their paint fight came to a halt, though, when Derek finally caught Stiles in a bear hug from behind, doing his best to wipe off all of the orange from his face onto Stiles’ shoulder, the college student shrieking in both horror and delight. 

“Derek! Stop!” he laughed, squirming but not to get away, no. He was sure that this was exactly where he wanted to be. 

“Nuh-uh. I said you were going to pay. I warned you,” Derek laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Not with friends or family and most certainly not with any of his models.

Stiles was finally able to turn in his arms, trying to press more paint to his skin but Derek grabbed for his arms and held them at his side, laughing with him as they calmed down. 

Stiles snickered at the way colors mixed over Derek’s stubble, making it look like he’d taken about five of those cans of hair paint and just went to town. It turned into a full belly laugh, not being able to help himself. “Oh god, you’re so colorful. You’re like a rainbow, Derek,” he said. 

Derek grinned down at him. “It’s not like you’re void of paint,” he offered. 

Stiles laughed softly, shaking his head a little as he cast his eyes up to look into Derek’s. But when he did… he realized just how close the two of them were. There, in the middle of Derek’s living room, they were pressed chest to chest; skin to skin in a warm way. They were so close that Stiles would only need tilt his head the right way and he could be kissing the other man. 

His smile died down a little as his breath caught in his throat, thinking that he should address that right? The fact that Derek was still wrapped around him and they were pressed close enough that if either was to move, everything would touch. 

But by the look on Derek’s face and the way his eyes flicked down to Stiles’ lips… he knew. He knew exactly what Stiles did to him to the point where he found himself barely wanting to let go of him. But of course… he still didn’t know how Stiles felt. That was… until he watched Stiles’ own eyes flick down to his lips and that was the only cue he needed. 

Derek surged forward, kissing Stiles with such force that it knocked him off kilter and he stumbled back just a little until his back hit one of the beams that ran through the loft. 

He made a noise into Derek’s mouth that was pure discomfort. Derek went to pull away, thinking maybe he read the signs wrong. But as Stiles launched at him and wrapped around him, he knew right away that he most certainly hadn’t. 

Stiles, still a little tipsy, was sure this was another dream. There was no way that Derek could be interested in him and there was no way this was real. Clearly he was in the loft again, modeling, asleep on the bed, and Derek just hadn’t awoken him this time. But that was perfectly fine. He could deal with that. He could throw himself into this wonderful dream. 

Derek didn’t hesitate to kiss Stiles deeply, to slide their tongues together in a way that had both of them groaning and wanting more. Stiles could feel the way Derek was gripping him and he was sure that he would break under the pressure. 

He broke away to pant softly, giving Derek ample opportunity to reach down and pick him up, wrapping his legs around his waist all the while he kept himself busy with kissing his neck. He couldn’t help but grin into his skin. 

“You’re covered in purple here,” he muttered. 

Stiles gave a breathy laugh, reeling from the simple fact that Derek had just picked him up like he was a bag of feathers. “Well then I guess a hickey will blend in perfectly if you’d be inclined to give me one.

Derek carried him over to the bed, laying him down as he kissed him over and over, feeling Stiles reaching for his pants as they got caught up in the heat of the moment. Derek could feel Stiles’ want and really… he felt the same. 

“Stiles,” he said as he caught his wrist. “Are… Are you sure you want to go there?” he asked softly. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. You know you’ve been drinking and when you came here you weren’t exactly in a  _ happy _ emotional state–” he tried but he soon found himself being cut off with a kiss. 

“Derek, shut up. Please. I’m sure I want you,” he whispered as he pulled him in, their kisses turning sensual as they worked Derek out of the rest of his clothes before they were crawling up the bed. 

Neither seemed to care about the paint. Stiles cared briefly, wondering if Derek would be mad that he got paint on his sheets but the way Derek had them rolling back and forth in them, he was sure he didn’t care. Or couldn’t care, whichever really. 

Their hands were everywhere on each other. They couldn’t stop touching and kissing, going at it like horny teenagers. It was like they were touch-starved and the other was the first person to offer themselves up. And really, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

It should have been concerning. They’d known each other for a very short amount of time and yet here they were touching each other and drawing moans like they knew everything about one another. Like they were familiar with each others bodies in every sense of the term. Like they were meant to be here, doing this. 

Soon the loft became filled with heat as they both panted hard and heavy for each other, their touches turning from exploring to erotic in no time at all. They needed the pleasure, to give and receive it. They hadn’t known each other long but this was all they’d thought about since they met, even if it was unbeknownst to their counterpart. 

“Derek,” Stiles moaned loudly, the call enough to make Derek give his own moan in response. Everything between them felt so good, their pleasure only building that it was almost overwhelming for the two. They didn’t know where to put hands or lips… they wanted to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. 

When Stiles’ cries of ecstasy rang through the loft, the only thought in Derek’s head was that the man beneath him was gorgeous. Even covered in paint, even spread out, panting, and eyes screwed shut… he was sure that he would find Stiles beautiful no matter what he did. 

When Derek finished, Stiles was sure that he’d never had sex with anyone and had it felt like that before. He felt like he was atop a cloud and like he wanted more if that was even possible. Instead, though, he settled for the way Derek took him in his arms and held him against his chest. 

By the time the two finally came down from their bliss, Stiles was grinning at the dried paint that was splotched on Derek’s skin. The first time he’d met the other, he’d been covered in paint as well. He’d wondered then if it ran below his clothes, if Derek ever painted naked. And while he might have been the one to put said paint there… it was something he liked seeing. He didn’t know why. 

Derek had taken to running his fingers up and down Stiles’ spine, getting side tracked by each mole that he found. In retrospect, he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. But then again… no one had ever driven him crazy quite like Stiles did. There was just something about him he couldn’t put his finger on. 

“So…” Stiles said after a while. “I thought you didn’t use this bed for sex,” he teased, keeping his tone light and playful.

Derek cracked a smile, opening his eyes to look down at Stiles. “I can honestly say this is my first time,” he said, taking in the way the paint seemed to make a rainbow on his jawline. “Damn you look gorgeous,” he muttered to himself as he leaned in and kissed him, both their mouths raw and swollen from how hard they’d been kissing one another just moments before. 

Stiles smiled into it. “Mm… keep kissing me like that and I’ll want to go again,” he whispered. 

“It’d be my pleasure… in like five minutes… possibly ten,” he offered, getting Stiles to laugh as he pulled him closer. 

Stiles stared up at him, still in shock that someone like Derek wanted someone like him. He was so beautiful and could have anyone he wanted. And yet that someone was Stiles. It was mind-boggling to him. But he supposed he would take it. 

Stiles took stock on the way their bodies for together, how perfect it felt to be with Derek even if he didn’t really know him all that well yet. He took in the way Derek’s eyes were without his glasses, deciding he liked both. He smiled at the thought of how Derek gave off this sort of bad boy persona but he’d never been anything but sweet to him. 

“It was amazing, by the way. The uh… what we just did, I mean,” he said with a slight blush. 

Derek smiled down at him. “Yeah? I’m glad you thought so.”

Stiles was quiet. He debated asking questions, something he always did when he was nervous. Their session had really sobered him up and now he was worried. He was worried that Derek would just pay him and tell him that he was a good model for the time being. He didn’t want that to happen. 

“So does this mean you’re still going to pay me?” he smirked, the same look of mischief behind his eyes that had been there when he was splattering paint on Derek. He tried to keep it light, tried to give off an air of nonchalance. 

Derek laughed and shook his head at his humor, thinking about that. Derek definitely liked Stiles, that much was clear. And he owed him money, he knew that too. But would giving it to him now make Stiles feel like he’d done this for no other reason than to get laid? Again… they didn’t know each other very well. 

“I’m… I’m trying really hard not to put my foot in my mouth here, Stiles,” he whispered. “I like you. A lot. But I don’t want you to think that… I did this to get laid… or that I think of you like something to be bought. Because I don’t want this to be a one time thing… but I also  _ really _ don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to buy some sort of relationship–”

“Derek,” he interrupted. “You’re thinking too much,” he said softly even if he’d just been doing the same. Though it was nice to see he wasn’t alone. “I’ll make you a deal, yeah? You say ‘yes, boyfriend Stiles. I’m going to pay you’ but instead you do that thing where every time you take me out for a date you get the bill first. For at least a few times. And we’ll call it services rendered.”

Derek grinned, lifting an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?” he asked. 

“Oh yeah, you’re stuck with me now, big guy. Ain’t no way you can put that kind of loving on me and expect me to just put my clothes on and leave.”

“Well I didn’t want that,” Derek countered. 

“Good. Because you’ve a nice kitchen and I make breakfast,” he smiled. 

Derek gave a sigh that was so full of content, he didn’t know what to do with it. “Yeah. Sounds like the perfect deal to me,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed him. 

“One more question before we go at this again, because I’m like… ninety percent sure that’s where this is headed,” he started, Derek chuckling at his frankness. 

“Whatever you want to ask, I’ll answer,” he said. 

“Does this mean you’re going to find a new model?” he bit his lip. 

Derek thought about that a moment. Stiles was the first nude piece he’d done in a long time. In fact a lot of his models were there to offer inspiration with their unique qualities and personalities. And Stiles… well the inspiration he got from him just never stopped coming. 

“I think that it means… at the moment, you’ve definitely got a permanent job here,” he smiled. 

Stiles chuckled. “As a boyfriend or as a model.”

“Both,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss him. “No one has ever inspired me like you do. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

“Good answer,” Stiles smiled up at him. “I guess that makes me your muse.”

Derek laughed. “Yeah… I guess it does.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I do apologize if the last bit seems a little rushed. I finished a while ago but I know me and if I get too attached, I'll just keep writing! The fic was already over 10k but I was getting attached. I had to cut the cord.


End file.
